“This way,” Niara said simply, guiding them through the others tending to the wounded.
There were four passages off the circular room, and Niara led them to the north one. While the Witches weren’t Fae with elemental powers, they were intricately attuned to nature and energy. It made sense that Niara’s personal apothecary space was to the north, aligning with the earth element and the grounding properties.
The passage itself was warm and smelled of spices and sage. She pushed open a wood door. It groaned on its hinges, and she stepped to the side, allowing them to pass before she closed it.
“Place her on the bed, Razik. There’s a basin and cloth to clean up with next to it. Your Majesty, the exam table, please,” she said, gesturing to the wood table in the center of the room.
While Cethin limped his way there, he said, “It’s not a big deal, Niara. I’ll heal.”
“And you’ll heal faster with my help,” she replied, brushing past him to a long workstation on the back wall. It was ladenwith herbs and plants, crystals and salts. Witch things that Razik wouldn’t dare touch, and certainly not in Niara’s sacred space.
He placed Kailia onto the bed, covering her with a wool blanket. Her clothing was so shredded from her own magic, there was more of her uncovered than there was covered. When she was situated, he turned to clean the blood from his skin to find Cethin glaring at him.
“Your face is portraying nothing of the gratitude you should be expressing,” Razik said flatly, dipping the cloth into the basin, spelled to keep the water warm.
“None of this was necessary.”
“None of this was necessary?” Razik repeated. “I’d say you can’t be this dense, but you continue to prove otherwise.”
“Still your king,” Cethin retorted.
“Still don’t give a fuck when it’s just us.”
Niara didn’t count. They’d known her for centuries. She was one of the few who knew the nature of what they were. What Cethin was. What Razik was. When her mother, Sidora, had Faded, Niara had become the High Witch of not just the coven in Aimonway but on the entire continent. She just didn’t like what came with that title. Preferring to be in this room perfecting her craft and dealing in healing, she delegated most tasks to others. Despite that, there were still times she was required to step into her full role.
But this was not one of those times, and she ignored their bickering as she mixed up some kind of paste for Cethin’s wound.
“What did you want me to do?” Razik clipped when Cethin didn’t respond. “Let her continue to stab you? With your own blade, I might add. Let her go, knowing otherloyalwarriors would go after her. You saw her firing those godsdamn arrows. She’d probably kill those same warriors who would only be trying to avenge their king, not knowing their king has becomeinfatuated with the very female who sank a blade into his thigh for no apparent reason.”
“There was a reason,” Cethin muttered. Then louder, he added, “But that’s not the point.”
“I can’t wait to hear what it is,” Razik said, sounding as apathetic as he felt.
“I don’t need to explain myself to you,” Cethin snapped. “Despite what you think, I do understand how that appeared to everyone.”
“Somehow I doubt that.”
“Fuck off, Greybane. I?—”
But he was interrupted by a knock on the door. “Razik?”
That was Fallon’s voice, which meant Wren and the others were with her.
Crossing the room to let them in, Niara called after him, “This is not a room to congregate in, Razik Greybane.”
“I know, Niara. My apologies. We won’t stay long.”
Pulling the door open, the two females and two males filed into the room. All of them were quiet and tentative. They all knew better than to piss off the Witch.
“Ariadne is getting the field cleared. Someone needs to go help her,” Razik said, swiping the cloth over his chest while he spoke.
“I’ll get Draven, and we can head over there,” Bram said, glancing from the king to the female on the bed before sending a knowing look to Jarek.
“I’ll go back too,” Fallon added. “Unless I’m needed for something else?”
Razik shook his head. The two left, and Jarek waited until the door closed once more before he said, “The Commander is looking for you. Wants a full report.”
“Fuck,” Razik muttered, tossing the cloth to a pile of soiled rags and pushing a hand through his hair. His uncle was going to be livid.
